


Never Fall in Love With an Actor

by Wolfscub



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Little bit of caretaking, Little bit of erotica, Talk of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfscub/pseuds/Wolfscub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too short for a summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Fall in Love With an Actor

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that came to me a couple days ago.
> 
> Nothing special.
> 
> Little bit of erotica, Fluff, little bit of caretaking, talk of injury.

"No, Tom, I've had enough of your shit!!!" I slammed the door closed with every bit of enraged indignation I could muster, not caring in the least whether or not I broke his beautiful, perfect fucking nose in the process.

Regardless of how much I tried not to care, the scream he issued at my action made my blood run cold. Fuck me. What if I _had_ actually hurt him - I loved him - I didn't really want to cause him any harm . . . 

I opened the door and saw how he was holding his hand in a twisted claw - face contorted, obviously in excruciating pain - and my heart fell through my feet and into the floor.

I felt as if I'd kicked a newborn puppy. Tom was always such a sweetheart - he'd been trying to cajole me out of this terrible mood all day - telling me very, very bad jokes, treating me as even more of a Princess than he usually did and generally catering to my every whim, but I just couldn't feel it today. I was in one of those moods where I wasn't going to be happy about anything he did, not that he'd stopped trying to either beguile or annoy me into feeling better the entire time we were out.

Luckily, I'm unphased by the sight of blood so I went to him immediately, reaching for his hand to see how badly I had damaged it. "Let me see it. I need to know whether to call 911." But he twisted away from me, holding it close to his body, away from me. "C'mon. Let me see it -" 

Tom remained on the floor of the hallway, sitting there in a glorious heap, of course, keeping his hand tucked against his far side, and I knew that if he wasn't willing to show it to me voluntarily, then I wasn't going to see it.

I crowded closer to him, slumping down on the floor in an inelegant pile next to him and trying to reach across that beautiful body of his. "Tom, you have to let me -"

Suddenly, I found the wrist I'd extended manacled by the very hand I'd supposedly mangled beyond repair as he used his hold to tug me forcibly onto his lap, wrapping those long arms around me to hold me in place against him.

There was no blood. 

There was not even a pinch. 

Because there was no _injury_.

When I realized what he'd done, I tried to be pissed but I was too relieved, and he looked too outrageously self-satisfied for me to stay furious at him, as I should have been for the near heart attack he gave me.

"You little fucker!!!"

His supposedly grievously damaged hand wound itself into the hair at the back of my neck, craning my head back roughly so that he could nuzzle his lips against one of my most sensitive spots and growl threateningly, "Not yet, but in a few minutes, I _will_ be . . . " as he rose with me in his arms and, stepping into my apartment, slammed the door shut behind us.


End file.
